Mostlyscared. Because maybe he was terrified of the thought of going to Paris, and maybe he hadn’t known what to do today at the greenhouse, but Wyatt had at least been brave on Saturday night, hadn’t he? He’d been brave as hell when he’d told Izzy he wanted to see his ink, and then walked into his bedroom.
Still, not being a total coward in every aspect of his life wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.
“Dad, can I use the studio kitchen tonight?” he asked. “I’ve got those baby shower cakes to get started on.”
“Of course,” Dad said. “Just—”
“Just clean up after myself,” Wyatt said, rolling his eyes. “I know!”
* * * *
The next morning Wyatt delivered the baby shower cupcakes to a delighted Jimmy and then, checking that nobody was watching him, instead of going home again he headed for the staff trailers. Sam was at work, so it was Izzy who opened the door to him. He looked okay, except for the shadows under his eyes that were dark as bruises.
“I made you a cake,” Wyatt said.
Izzy grinned and stepped back to allow him inside the trailer.
Wyatt thrust the container into his hands, and Izzy didn’t even look down at it.
“What?” Wyatt asked, suddenly self-conscious.
And then he remembered that he’d woken up today feeling decidedly not a boy, and his hair was out, and he was wearing a shirt that was definitely one of Harper’s hand-me-downs. It was a tunic, with flowers embroidered around the yoke. He’d worn it before and Patty had told him he looked like a flower child—she would know—but now, looking at Izzy, Wyatt knew he wasn’t seeing a boy pushing back against gender norms. Izzy wasn’t seeing a boy at all. He was seeing Wyatt.
“Do you like it?” Wyatt asked, feeling that same rush of courage he had on Saturday night.
Izzy set the container down on the coffee table. “You’re so pretty.” He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Wyatt’s jeans and pulled him closer. Kissed him softly, barely a brush of his lips. “You’re beautiful.”
Wyatt chased his mouth for another fleeting kiss. “Are you okay?”
“I’m mostly tired,” Izzy said. “A fucking bumblebee wiped the floor with me, can you believe that?” He grinned. “But yeah, I’m just tired. Justin said I can take tomorrow off too if I want. He also came over this morning and gave me two of those pen things.”
“EpiPens,” Wyatt said.
“Yeah. He wants me to keep one here and carry one with me. And he said that there’s always gonna be some in the first aid kits at work too.” Izzy snorted. “Your brother is a pretty good guy, you know?”
He said it like he was surprised, and Wyatt thought that there hadn’t been too many good guys in Izzy’s life before. He thought of how Izzy didn’t have anyone listed as his emergency contact, and his chest ached.
“Yeah,” he said. “He is.”
Izzy held his gaze. “I told you that you look pretty already, right?”
Wyatt felt his face burning. “You mentioned it.”
“Is that okay for me to say that?”
Wyatt swallowed and nodded. “I like it.”
“What if…” Izzy cupped Wyatt’s cheek and stroked a thumb over his cheekbone. “What if today I told you that you were a pretty girl? Would that be okay?”
Wyatt jolted at the word; a fearful, visceral reaction. He waited for the sting to come after, like it always had when he’d thought it. Not a boy, he always told himself, because he somehow couldn’t bring himself to call himself a girl. Except the sting didn’t come, because when Izzy said the word it didn’t hurt at all.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, clutching at Izzy’s sides like he was afraid of drowning. “Say it.”
“You’re so pretty,” Izzy whispered. “Such a pretty girl. My pretty girl.”
And Wyatt’s heart tumbled over a few beats before it swelled. “I like it.”
And they kissed again.
